“Not if you’re convincing enough,” Morrowseer said, baring his teeth. “Now go.” He shot a blast of fire at Squid, who barely leaped out of the way in time.
“I don’t want to,” Squid complained again, but Viper and Flame were already shoving him forward. Ochre trailed after them and Starflight reluctantly brought up the rear.
He glanced back once and saw Fatespeaker huddled into her wings, a small drenched shape beside the vast bulk of Morrowseer. He hoped his friends would welcome her as the new NightWing when he was gone.
I’m about to die, he thought, and I never got to tell Sunny I love her. I’m going to die without saving the world, without stopping the war … without ever doing one brave thing in my life.
As they approached the firelight, Starflight’s dread grew heavier and heavier.
Loud dragon voices spilled from the cave, along with a column of smoke that rose from a hole in the stone wall.
“What if someone’s on watch?” Starflight whispered when they were a few lengths away.
They all froze. Starflight searched the darkness around them with his eyes, trying to move as little as possible.
Lightning flashed, and Starflight’s heart seized up. Perched on a cliff top above them was a dragon with enormous wings, staring out to sea.
“There,” he whispered. Surely he could see them? Why hadn’t he called out to warn the other soldiers yet?
Starflight squinted at the shape, at the rise and fall of its shoulders and the curve of its neck, and he realized that the guard was asleep — despite the rain pouring down on him, despite the booming thunder, despite his whole job being to stay awake.
“We’re all right,” he whispered to the others.
They crept toward the cave, staying closer to the shadows now. A wooden door blocked the entrance.
“Wait,” Starflight whispered.
Flame paused with his front talons raised to knock. He frowned at Starflight.
“Let’s be smart about this,” Starflight said. “We don’t have to charge right in. Let’s listen for a minute and see if we hear anything that might be useful.”
“Fine by me,” Ochre said with a shrug.
“But it’s wet out here,” Squid grumbled.
Flame and Viper exchanged glances, and then, to Starflight’s surprise, they both nodded. Perhaps fear made them more agreeable. The two of them put their ears up to the wooden door, so he crept along the wall and crouched below the smoke hole. He tried to arrange his wings in a way that would shield him at least a little bit from the rain.
There seemed to be several arguments going on inside. Starflight could only catch snatches of one that seemed to be closest to the fire.
“If Queen Ruby says we can return to the palace, you better believe I’m going home,” growled one dragon.
“You’d be obeying the orders of a false queen,” snarled another. “Queen Scarlet is still alive, and she’ll have us all killed if we abandon our posts.”
“Then where is she?” challenged a third voice. “What kind of queen leaves her kingdom in chaos like this?”
“It’s not chaos. We have Ruby now,” said the first voice. “And she says we can leave.”
“But Queen Burn says we shouldn’t,” said another dragon.
“She’s not our queen,” snapped more than one voice.
“That’s enough. No one’s going anywhere today,” boomed someone authoritative-sounding. The hubbub of voices stilled. “Not in this storm. We’ll discuss it again tomorrow.”
After a moment, a murmur of grumbling and muttering started, but nothing that Starflight could pick out. He crept back to Flame and Viper.
“Useless,” Flame hissed.
“Perhaps not,” Starflight said. “Did you hear how some of them are dissatisfied with Burn? We can press that, I think. If she’s trying to act like she’s their new queen, I bet a whole lot of SkyWings would be willing to reconsider their alliance.”
“Fancy talk,” said Viper, flicking her tail at him. “Now let’s see you actually do it.” She shoved Squid away from the shadow of her wings, where he was trying to huddle.
Flame rapped on the door before Starflight could think of another way to delay.
All the noise inside abruptly stopped. Stamping feet approached the door and it was flung wide open.
Starflight found himself facing a room full of SkyWings.
Most of them were clumped in small groups, eating or rolling prey bones in games of luck. Red, orange, and gold scales gleamed in the firelight. Savage-looking spears leaned casually against the wall, and a map next to the fireplace showed the continent of Pyrrhia, with an X where the outpost was located and arrows showing possible attack routes from the Ice Kingdom.
“What in the …” said the guard who’d answered the door. He trailed off, staring at them. The whole room — about seventeen dragons, Starflight estimated — turned to stare as well.
Starflight could easily imagine how they looked: five bedraggled dragonets, soaking wet and exhausted, in five different colors that were normally not seen together.
One of the SkyWings inhaled sharply. “It’s them!” he hissed.